Inspector Stone Mysteries Volume 1

4-2

STONE SETTLED ON THE corner of the desk opposite his subordinate and focused his attention on Detective Sergeant Mason; he didn’t say as much, but since he had had to work during the night, when he was supposed to be off, he was glad to see that Mason was working beyond the end of his shift. “Tell me about the hit-and-run,” he directed the man who had been after the promotion he got.

“Bugger-all to tell,” Mason said, the dislike he felt for the man who had got the job he wanted there, as always, in his eyes, and just beneath the surface of his words. “Old geezer walking his dog got knocked down by some ignorant little prick.”

“Any witnesses?”

Mason snorted. “Are you kidding? It was almost three in the morning on a Sunday, no-one was around, leastways, no-one who’s gonna come forward.” The knowing look on his face suggested that Stone should already have realised that. “I’ve got Chris and a couple of uniforms canvassing the area, just in case someone saw something, and I’m putting together a request for all CCTV footage from the area. I doubt anything’ll come of it, though, it’ll be a complete waste of time. Even if we manage to catch the bugger responsible, it’ll just turn out to be some little punk out for a joyride in a stolen car, and he’ll get away with a slap on the wrist and nothing more.” His expression was one of disgust as he said that.

“Let’s hope that isn’t the case.” Stone was just as frustrated as Mason with the minor sentences handed out to youths, regardless of the damage they did to people and property, who took cars for a joyride. “What’s the old man’s condition?”

“Not good,” Mason said with a shake of his head, his demeanour changing slightly, the animosity he felt towards his superior disappearing, or at least receding. “He was still unconscious when I called the hospital a while ago; he’s got a fractured skull, three cracked ribs, a broken arm and a broken leg. Traffic reckon whoever hit him must have been going at least forty-five, and they didn’t even try to stop.”

“Bastards!”

Mason could only nod in agreement of that sentiment.

“What do the doctors put his chances at?” Stone asked.

“Somewhere between crap, and make arrangements for a funeral,” Mason replied in his usual callous way. “We don’t even know the old geezer’s name since he wasn’t carrying any I.D. when he was found.”

“Try and remember, Justin, he’s not an old geezer, he’s an old man who has had the misfortune to be in a bad accident,” Stone said, though he doubted his words would have any effect on his subordinate. “Now, what are you doing to find out who he is?”

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